Clarity
by LittleMissMorbid
Summary: ."The surprising thing about Casey is this: she doesn’t make love." Rated for sexual content. **Do NOT** read if you are against that sort of thing. Based on Master-Johnson's Four Stage Model.


**Excitement**

It wasn't hard for her to make his heart race, palms sweaty, images of dismembered flesh and gore running through his head to keep the lower half of his body in check; her breath would hit his cheek, her fingers accidently skimming along some exposed flesh. She probably thought he was panting because they were arguing (Casey never did catch on quick to anything involving s-e-x), probably though the red tinting the back of his neck was through anger.

If the argument lasts long enough, he finds himself circling her like a predator would its prey; he has to remind himself to _not _lick his lips in anticipation because there is _nothing _to anticipate. She watches him, anger making her eyes glow, her red cheeks making her all the more deliciously alluring. She snaps, recoils at his quick remark, snarls when his telltale smirk graces his features.

Derek gets lost in their fights. Mesmerized by her movements, her eyes, her flushed skin, the dark hair the dances as she fidgets and moves in front of him. He doesn't even have to think about what to say in response to her words; it's automatic. And he can use the time she's distracted to bask in her _glow. _

He sees her lips move—her plump, _fuckable, kiss-me-now _lips, begging him to give in to his temptation. And Casey continues to yammer on and on, subconsciously aware that it _kills _him when she does so. _**Fucking tease. **_

So he gives up, gives in, takes his prey and tastes the softness of her lips, involuntarily groaning as he presses his body against hers roughly. She responds with fervor, not even fighting him when he pushes her to her bed (he smirks at this—what, no lecture on the germs, the cesspool of his room?)

If her eyes glowed when they fought, well fuck, they're on _fire _when he draws back from her neck, littered with small bruises.

This isn't a romance story—clothes are discarded in record time, skin scorches with every teasing, tantalizing touch.

**Plateau**

He's so achingly hard by the time she takes her bra off and those beautiful, soft pieces of flesh are exposed, the stiff centers already telling him she wants more. Casey tastes like anything forbidden—sweet, with generous sides of self-pride and obsession as additives. He tastes her once, he needs more. It's like a drug; he can't get enough.

All that health food has done Casey good, because no girl has ever tasted this good; she's squirming and gasping and _begging _him not to stop and that's quite possibly the best thing out of this whole mess—_she needs him. _And when his suckling and licking gets to be enough, she has to bite down on her hand to muffle the scream that's crawling out of her throat.

She gasps for oxygen, expelling carbon dioxide at such a rate it startles him, and he sees her stomach dip in, dip out, as she waits for her heartbeat to slow. He sucks his index finger with a smirk, whispering, _finger-licking good, Princess. _

She flushes in that typically predictable Casey way.

Her eyes glint with an odd devilish charm and, using her hand to take his shoulder, she pushes him down, dragging one long, lacquered fingernail down his stomach. He shudders. The grunt that comes out of his mouth is quite animalistic when she takes him in, her warm tongue doing things he never thought Casey McDonald, super-keener, could ever do.

**Peak**

She's quite evil—in the midst of all the raging hormones and crackling electricity, he had forgotten that, and just as he thinks he's about to get to his peak, she stops. Looks at him with widened baby blues, perching on her knees. At first he thinks she's about to get dressed and leave.

Well, well, well, Casey has a trick or two up her sleeve. Who knew girls like her kept condoms in their wallets? She slips it on slowly, sensuously, still staring at him with those eyes, and he can't even muster up the energy to ask _are you sure _because god he's so turned on right now and he _needs _it.

The surprising thing about Casey is this: she doesn't make love. She _fucks _roughly, enough to bruise both his hips and hers but Derek doesn't _care, _it feels so damn good.

It isn't simultaneous, he's not even sure she gets off, but the frenzied gyrating is enough to push him off the cliff, hook, line and sinker, enough to wish that _exact _moment would never end, because Casey is _so damn good _at this and he's a little appalled they didn't do this much, much earlier.

She lets out a little gasp when he pulls her down for a kiss.

**Resolution **

When she stares at him, watching him as he attempts to stay awake (girls like the cuddling thing, but he's a _guy, _it's biology, sleep is always the next thing after sex). Her features are muddled as he watches back, eyes half-lidded, taking her hand when she offers it.

It's odd, though, even with sleep making his thoughts muggy, he feels as if he's stumbled into a true moment of clarity, an epiphany.

Casey's actually…sort of beautiful.

He tries to voice this, but he only gets her name out and then sleep drags him away.

When he wakes up, Derek expects an empty room and the disappointing realization of a very realistic dream. His room _is _empty, but the numerous hickeys on his neck refute the argument of a dream. He throws on whatever clothes he can find and heads down the stairs in search of Casey and a snack. No Casey, but his snack is waiting for him in the fridge—a neatly wrapped BLT with a tiny heart drawn on the wrapper.

How sappily Casey.

She meets him in his room, as he lounges in his chair, reading an old issue of a video game magazine. Her legs carry her gracefully as she does some prissy ballet move to dodge the pie of dirty clothes in front of her. Taking up the whole center of his bed, drawing her sleek legs up to her chin, she says nothing.

Derek moves over to her side, at first attempting to imitate her legs-to-the-chin thing, then giving up and letting them sprawl in front of him.

He looks over to her, eyeing her slightly anxious profile, as she bites her lip.

'So, Case, you're kinda beautiful, you know.'

He watches as a slow smile crosses her solemn features.


End file.
